


As close as you need

by carxies



Series: I'm still only a human [8]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Another thing is that the Iwaoi in this is all loving and caring ok nothing bad between them, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Hurt/Comfort, It's nothing graphic so fear not, Iwaizumi gets into a fight twice and that's all violence in this, M/M, Minor Violence, Oikawa just wants to be a good friend, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-10 17:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8925631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carxies/pseuds/carxies
Summary: Jerking to face Oikawa, the man gasps and so almost does Oikawa. He takes in his looks, the black hair sticking up in all directions, his eyes bloodshot and puffy as he stares right at Oikawa. He is – Oikawa’s classmate. A mess. The ugly, old yellow light doesn’t do him much good either. He looks so scared.“Fight me!” the man calls out, way too loud for a silent waiting room. His tone is anything but aggressive. Broken, perhaps.Oikawa’s first instinct is to actually fight him, just like he would if someone said it back in high school, but luckily his second thoughts are much gentler.  Or, Oikawa meets a boy that no one really believes in – so he does what someone before him should have. He out of spite befriends him, stubbornly supports him, gets dangerously close to him and gently teaches him all he knows.





	

 

It’s raining outside; the autumn this year isn’t very nice. Oikawa watches the raindrops hitting the window, observes the decoration in a form of small flower stickers on the glass.

 

He still has seventeen minutes. Is it a good time to enter now? He’s been standing here for at least half an hour, _after all_ , staring at the ‘psychiatry’ sign. He shoves his phone in his pocket and enters.

 

A nervous shuffling of feet on the ugly (the _ugliest)_ beige is the first thing he hears once he steps into the waiting room.

 

If this was his classroom, Oikawa would call the person out because of it; the squeaking of sneakers isn’t a pleasant sound at all. However, this isn’t his classroom – it’s a waiting room, a place where you meet only people on the edge of breaking, people who no longer have any energy left to pretend they’re okay.  He wordlessly walks further inside the room, head kept down. He takes off his coat and holds it by his side, sneaking a glance at the man.

 

It’s his first time here; Oikawa can tell that much. Can tell by the way people always clutch whatever they can, the way their eyes shift around the room and refuse to make eye contact with anyone. Can tell by the way they wear the embarrassment of being in need of help on their faces.

 

He announces his arrival to the nurse; it’s been the same nurse for three years, and then sits down, four seats away from the other person. The chair is cold and uncomfortable. Oikawa hates these stupid chairs – they hurt his butt when he sits on them for long minutes, each time he’s too early and the nurse offers him a cup of tea. He’s never accepted the tea, afraid he will spill it thanks to his shaky hands. They shake even now, even if this is far from his first visit and it’s not like he has a reason to be this nervous. Damn his own body for betraying him once again.

 

The light on the ceiling is doing pretty bad job at illuminating this one room. They really should _finally_ change the bulbs. The fairy lights in this room are off and most likely forgotten, which is a shame. They create an illusion of this room being a better place when they’re on. Oikawa likes looking at them while he waits.

 

Something like a sob echoes between the walls. For a second, Oikawa debates whenever he should try to start a conversation, but he is no good when it comes to words. There are other people here for that – young and pretty nurses with bright smiles, kind middle aged doctors.

 

He decides to leave it to them.

 

Oikawa picks up one of the magazines laid on the small table, one of these that are not interesting, but are good enough to drag his attention away for a little while. He is halfway through an article about how to save money (much needed, in Oikawa’s case) when a sob louder than the previous ones tears his heart apart. He places the magazine down, turning to look at the other man. He reaches out and touches his shoulder, gently, _barely_.

 

Jerking to face Oikawa, the man gasps and so _almost_ does Oikawa. He takes in his looks, the black hair sticking up in all directions, his eyes bloodshot and puffy as he stares right at Oikawa. He is –

 

 _Oikawa’s classmate. A mess._ The ugly, old yellow light doesn’t do him much good either. He looks so _scared_.

 

“Fight me!” the man calls out, way too loud for a silent waiting room. His tone is anything but aggressive. Broken, perhaps.

 

Oikawa’s first instinct is to actually fight him, just like he would if someone said it back in high school, but luckily his second thoughts are much gentler. He can hear some piano melody being played somewhere in the distance. He can’t remember the guy’s name.

 

“ _No_. You would beat me,” he replies softly and reaches into his pocket, handing the guy a pack of paper tissues. “Here.”

 

The man looks at him like he’s never been offered a pack of paper tissues before. Maybe it’s more about the gesture, Oikawa thinks as the stranger accepts it, though with a little hesitation and cold fingers.

 

To be fair, Oikawa does not doubt the man would fight him (and beat his ass) under normal circumstances. It’s written in his eyes. Oikawa has seen it many times in his life before; in the eyes of his old teammates when his team was one step away from the sweet victory, in the eyes of his classmates who stayed up all night to study and pass the exam. In the eyes of people who tell the nurse they won’t be coming back again.

 

It’s a fighter look.

 

Oikawa wonders why the guy is sitting on the uncomfortable chair when he still has that look.

 

(It’s also his muscles that assure Oikawa he would lose.)

 

“Of course I would,” the man says; his voice quieter, rough and scratchy. He eyes Oikawa, and Oikawa suddenly remembers him. Remembers seeing his back in the class, remembers seeing him walking in the hall.

 

The dark-haired man sniffs and rubs his nose, then sits up and folds his arms over the jacket in his lap. “I totally would. “

“I scratch and bite,” Oikawa informs him, careful to keep his voice light-hearted, only tiny bit teasing.

 

The other man chuckles and it sounds much better than his sobs or shouting. “Thanks.”

 

 Oikawa smiles at him in return, before one of the doors opens. A woman in dark blue sweater stands there, her chocolate hair pulled back and the tiniest wrinkles showing on her forehead. She still looks much younger than she truly is, Oikawa knows.

 

“Toru, dear! I forgot to call that I have one more patient today, I’m sorry. Do you mind waiting for an hour?”

 _It wouldn’t be the first time_ , Oikawa thinks. “No problem, mom.”

 

He can feel the other guy glaring at him – it’s not surprising anymore with the amount of times that it had happened to Oikawa. He always craves to know what people think when the middle aged psychologist comes out and calls Oikawa her son in from of her patients.

 

If only he could read their minds. He wonders if his mother wishes for the same thing sometimes.

 

“Have a tea meanwhile, it’s cold here,” she says with a soft smile on her face, “And Iwaizumi-kun, you come inside.”

 

Oikawa doesn’t have the tea. He thinks about Iwaizumi and how small the world is.

 

 

**

 

Oikawa’s hands are buried in his pockets and his chin is tucked under the fabric of his turtleneck. It is freezing cold, even for the end of October. The song playing in his headphones hasn’t changed the past few days - when he tries to skip it, listen to listen to something else, it doesn’t feel right. He knows all the words by now, even though they’re not Japanese. His glasses are falling down his nose, but he doesn’t bother with them. He tilts his head back and stares up at the sky, his eyes narrowing.

 

With a sigh, he pulls his phone out and closes the music app. A new shadow appears next to his and when he looks up, his chest tightens. He hurriedly rips the headphones off his ears, fixing his glasses.  Before Oikawa can think about what to say, Iwaizumi speaks up.

 

“Hey, so, about yesterday- I just wanted to ask you- “ he starts, tone clearly nervous, even though he tries to hide it.

“Not to tell anyone,” Oikawa finishes for him when he watches the poor guy struggling with the words. Something he’s learned from his mother, he supposes. By the way Iwaizumi’s eyes widen and search for anyone around them, his guess is right.

 

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi breathes out, avoiding Oikawa’s gaze.

 

 _It’s funny, kind of._ Oikawa can’t say he’s surprised that the dark-haired man has found him because of this. He believes he would do the same if he was in Iwaizumi’s place. Oikawa has seen many patients of the psychiatry. Some of them are quiet, some are loud, each one is different, each shows different symptoms. But almost all no one is comfortable with the thought of people around them knowing about their sittings.

 

“I won’t tell a single soul. Why would I, anyway.”

 

Iwaizumi nods and takes his turn to leave. Oikawa couldn’t explain it even if he tried to, but the only thing that feels right in that moment is to catch up with him and invite him to hang out. Iwaizumi _stares_ at him. Oikawa doesn’t think he’s said anything strange, but he checks just in case. “Is that weird or-“

 

“No, _no_. I’m just .. Surprised you would want to,” Iwaizumi admits and something about that confession squeezes Oikawa’s heart.

 

“I would _love_ to,” Oikawa says, honestly.

 

 

**

 

 _It’s not weird to be nervous before meeting with someone for the first time,_ Oikawa tells himself as stares at the bistro across the street, fists clenched. It _isn’t_ , because he’s never really talked to Iwaizumi and all he knows about the man is that he wears nice clothes and visits his mother. He supposes this is where the problem truly lays – he met him not just _somewhere_ , he met him in the waiting room where Oikawa has sat so many times already and met so many people he couldn’t count them. It would be easier if his mother told him with what problem Iwaizumi came to her, but his mother mustn’t talk about her patients and Oikawa _knows_ it, yet still he almost asked her this morning.

 

‘ _Don’t go if you have doubts_ ,’ his friend had said and Oikawa refused before he could even finish the sentence. There was no way Oikawa would back off after seeing how _shocked_ Iwaizumi was that Oikawa genuinely wanted to hang out with him. No one should have _that_ look. It still hurts Oikawa now, three days later.

 

He pushes the image off his mind and crosses the street, walking inside through the small door. He searches for a table where he will wait for Iwaizumi, except the man is already there, reading some book. Oikawa sits in front of him, folding his arms on the table.

 

“Hey, Iwa-chan,” he says when Iwaizumi looks up.

“What the hell is that,” the man mutters and closes the book. The great Gatsby. “So we’re getting a breakfast?”

“Yes! My classes start at 10 and yours too, right?”

“Right.”

 

Oikawa picks the menu and reads it to busy himself. They order minutes later and only start talking about school and such while they’re stuffing their mouths with pancakes. _Baby steps_ , Oikawa thinks as he listens to Iwaizumi talking about his major, making sure to nod and hum every now and then to assure the man he’s listening. And boy he _is_.

 

What he cannot understand is why Iwaizumi has such hard time accepting Oikawa wants to be his friend, because he is funny – he makes Oikawa laugh in less than first ten minutes – and even if he isn’t the best with words, it doesn’t matter, because neither is Oikawa.

 

 

**

 

The first time Iwaizumi opens up a tiny bit and tells Oikawa something more personal than his homework is when they hang out during free period one day, sitting in a cafeteria and having a piece of cake just because they can. Oikawa likes this idea a lot.

 

“Maybe something big and cheesy would have helped,” Oikawa comments when Iwaizumi finishes the story about how his ex broke up with him because he wasn’t romantic enough.

“Pizza?” Iwaizumi deadpans and Oikawa rolls his eyes.

“No! I’m talking about a gesture.”

“Oh,” Iwaizumi frowns. “That makes much more sense. He doesn’t even like pizza.”

 

They stare at each other for a second. Oikawa supposes it wasn’t Iwaizumi’s plan to come out to him like that, but then again, why would there be need to come out at all? Iwaizumi visibly tenses up and pulls his plate closer to him.

 

“Who the hell doesn’t like pizza?!” Oikawa calls out, his tone scandalized. He hopes this will stop Iwaizumi from closing up again.

“I know, right?” Iwaizumi grins, showing his perfect white teeth as his shoulders fall down and he continues eating.

“Hell yeah!” Oikawa laughs and leans back in his seat, his whole body nicely warm despite the cold weather outside.

 

That morning, Oikawa learns a few things about Iwaizumi Hajime. He _isn’t_ the most romantic soul out there, but Oikawa isn’t either. It’s another thing they have in common.

 

 

**

 

“And then she said she wouldn’t date such imbecile and threw the ball on him, it was amazing.”

 

“I don’t understand where you take all these stories,” Oikawa says as they walk towards the exit of the building, their last class over. Oikawa just wants to go home and sleep until dinner, then sleep again. He’s been doing that a lot lately, on the days he’s not with Iwaizumi. “Seriously Makki, how do you manage to be _everywhere_?”

 

“It’s a talent,” Hanamaki smirks and raises one almost nonexistent eyebrow.

 

 _Every talent comes with a prize_ , Oikawa thinks and snickers at his own joke. _It’s a damn good joke._

 

Hanamaki is already opening his mouth to ask Oikawa to repeat it out loud (he knows Oikawa well by now) and argue when someone passing them – _running_ – shouts there’s a fight outside. Oikawa and Hanamaki exchange a look and they’re rushing out of the building as well. Not that Oikawa is keen on violence, but he hates when he doesn’t know what people are talking about. Hanamaki .. Well, Hanamaki has to witness everything.

 

There are already way too many people outside; standing in the circle around what Oikawa guesses is a centre where the fight is happening. He and Hanamaki push through, apologizing in the process, to get a better view of what is going on. Oikawa technically _is_ a bystander, but the air is punched out of his lungs by the time he pushes the last person blocking his vision. The guy _clearly_ losing is no one that Oikawa knows, _but the one straddling him-_ everything about his is familiar to Oikawa, the tan skin and dark hair, short chubby fingers and-

 

“Iwa-chan!” he yells before he can control himself. _This isn’t a fight,_ he panics in his head; _this is Iwaizumi beating someone up in front of his own eyes._

 

Iwaizumi’s fist stops midair as he looks up immediately, his wide eyes searching for Oikawa in the crowd – it doesn’t take him long. People standing around Oikawa stare at him as well, he can _feel_ it. However, Oikawa’s attention is fully at Iwaizumi, who seems to be as stunned as Oikawa feels. The guy on lying on the ground takes this chance, _stupidly created by Oikawa_ , and seconds later Iwaizumi is stumbling backwards, holding onto his nose. The crowd steps back from Iwaizumi and Oikawa _might_ scream out the same moment.

 

“Is this the guy who told you to fight him?” Hanamaki snickers somewhere beside him, but Oikawa ignores this snarky comment. (He remembers it though.)

 

He rushes to Iwaizumi while his friend shouts something along the line ‘ _Don’t get involved in a fight, dammit Oikawa!’_. However, right now, he is worried about his _other_ friend, the one kneeling on the ground with a bloody nose.

 

“Iwa-chan! What the hell?!” He yells again, more of pure shock than being mad. His heart is beating so fast he’s scared it will jump out of his chest.

 

Iwaizumi doesn’t seem to be bothered by his tone. “Help me up,” he mutters and reaches out the same hand that got the turned the other student’s face into a disaster. Oikawa still takes it without hesitation and pulls Iwaizumi to feet.

 

“I’ve never thought you would _actually start a fight_ ,” Oikawa groans in frustration as Iwaizumi brushes the dirt off his jeans, casual as ever. He isn’t sure if Iwaizumi had started it, but he ignores the fact for now.

 

“And I’ve never thought you would end one,” Iwaizumi looks up through his eyelashes, a smile in his eyes, and Oikawa can’t help but laugh out loud – this is the Iwaizumi he knows.

“Neither have I,” he admits sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“ _What the fuck,”_ the guy on the ground spits out as he sits up, staring daggers at Iwaizumi.

 

Iwaizumi beside him tenses up and Oikawa is reminded that he _will_ get involved in a fight if he doesn’t get Iwaizumi away as soon as possible.

 

“Better leave him alone if you don’t want to get your ass kicked again,” he says, as threateningly as he can, and grabs Iwaizumi’s arm, dragging him to safety. Away from the cursing guy, away from the booing crowd. He hopes Iwaizumi won’t get into trouble. Iwaizumi follows him in silence, lets himself be almost manhandled as Oikawa practically runs through the halls.

 

They end up in the bathroom on the first floor, where Oikawa slumps against the wall and breathes heavily, finally thinking about the situation. His mind still can’t quite accept the events.

 

“ _Right_ ,” he forces through his teeth, his throat dry after they stand in silence for too long, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

 

Iwaizumi nods and Oikawa wets a couple of tissues while Iwaizumi stays still, his hands gripping the sink behind him.

 

“It might hurt a little,” Oikawa says as he reaches out towards Iwaizumi’s face, slowly so he doesn’t scare him off. Iwaizumi is sensitive when it comes to people touching him suddenly; something Oikawa has noticed during their short friendship.

 

“You will get dirty,” the other man scowls and nudges Oikawa’s hip with his own, as gently as ever. As if he wasn’t even capable of being harsh. Oikawa still pathetically believes he isn’t.

 

“I won’t,” Oikawa murmurs under his breath. Iwaizumi hisses when he wipes the blood away from underneath his nose and lips. His hand is shaking and he hopes Iwaizumi doesn’t notice it. “Do you think it’s broken?”

 

“ _Nah_.” It takes one stern look before Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and corrects himself. “No, it isn’t.”

“You will have a bruise,” Oikawa sighs, letting his fingers gently caress the irritated skin under his eye before pressing the cold tissue on it.

“It will heal,” Iwaizumi says; voice barely above whisper.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

 

“You beat that guy up!” Oikawa raises his voice, though it isn’t necessary – it’s just two of them here. It’s simply to get his point across.“You need to talk to me, Iwa-chan,” he tries again, softer this time.

 

“You got that from your mom, _didn’t you_?” Iwaizumi huffs and pulls himself away from Oikawa.

 

“What does my mom have to do with this?” Oikawa frowns, taking a step back and crossing his arms over his chest, like it could soothe the ache inside. He tells himself that everyone gets into a fight at some point. He tells himself that he isn’t scared of Iwaizumi – and truth to be told, he isn’t, not even after seeing _that_.

 

Iwaizumi groans and throws the used tissues in the bin. “Everything! Don’t you understand? _This_ is why I go there!”

 

Oikawa can tell he’s using all his strength to control himself at this point. That’s why it makes sense and yet it _does not_ to him _._ Iwaizumi is such a gentle person. He brings Oikawa tea, really sweet one, each time they meet up to study. He lends him his jacket when Oikawa is cold – Oikawa is always overly cold.

 

Oikawa stares at him, dumbfounded. “Aggression..” he breathes out. “You have tendency to aggression.”

 

“Yeah. _That’s why_ I don’t have friends. I’m glad you finally figured it out,” Iwaizumi chuckles, and the sound pierces Oikawa’s heart. He knows what’s coming next before Iwaizumi even says: “You shouldn’t be my friend. I could hurt you.”

 

You wouldn’t hurt _me_ , he wants to say. But their friendship is new and while Oikawa _knows_ , he is also aware that Iwaizumi doesn’t trust himself, not yet. He will get there, sooner or later, and Oikawa is determined to be there when it happens.

 

“It doesn’t matter!” he yelps instead. He steps closer again, his cold fingers finding their way to the sides of Iwaizumi’ neck, his thumbs stroking the line of his jaw. It’s a touch that calms Oikawa down; he hopes it has the same effect on Iwaizumi. The dark-haired man doesn’t flinch away like Oikawa’s first expected him to, so he takes it as a good sign and continues. “It doesn’t matter to me. Just talk to me. Whenever, for whatever reason.”

 

Iwaizumi only gazes aside as he nods.

 

“Iwa-chan, can we hug?” Oikawa asks before he changes his mind.

 

Iwaizumi turns to him then; eyes wide like Oikawa just revealed he’s immortal. Oikawa wishes he was, sometimes, but that’s a story for another time. “Why?”

 

“You know, that’s what friends do. I deserve it after a near death experience,” Oikawa says, his grin bright and playful, but his hands shake by his sides.

“Okay,” Iwaizumi replies, not moving, just letting Oikawa do what he wants.

 

And so he does; he wraps his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck and gently pulls his head against his own shoulder, fingers tangled through the dark hair. The man shivers in his embrace before he finally returns it, still with hesitation and it’s all over in matter of seconds, but it’s at least _something_.

 

 _This is for you_ , Oikawa thinks, but there’s no way he could say that out loud and Iwaizumi would still accept.

 

 

**

 

Oikawa’s unwarranted trust in Iwaizumi is questioned just the next day. Oikawa doesn’t know the answer himself – so he laughs it off, tells his friends that they are trying to find a deeper meaning in something that doesn’t have one. That doesn’t stop him from taking the longer way to the hospital and thinking to the point of giving himself a headache. He comes to a simple resolution: he _wants_ to put his trust in Iwaizumi and that’s it.

 

Before he even opens the door, his gut tightens and he _knows_. He pauses the song he’s been listening to the whole journey and pushes the door open.

 

Hanging out with him becomes another routine in Oikawa’s life, though he still knows only a little about him. This is a second time he meets him at his mother’s work, which means Iwaizumi’s sittings are a month apart. That is pretty frequent for a psychologist, Oikawa thinks with a frown on his face as he walks inside. Maybe _the thing_ is worse than Oikawa has guessed.

 

Iwaizumi sits there, looking smaller than he is (Oikawa likes to tease him about his height, but now isn’t the best time).

 

“Hey. Have you been here for long?” Oikawa approaches him; it startles Iwaizumi. He visibly relaxes when he sees it’s only Oikawa, though his fingers stay tight around the water bottle in his hand.

 

“About twenty minutes,” he replies.

“Yes, my mother is.. terrible when it comes to this,” Oikawa hums and glances at the phone still in his hand. “Do you want to listen to something?”

 

Iwaizumi measures him with a long look, before he shrugs and Oikawa moves to the chair next to Iwaizumi’s. He hands the dark-haired man one headphone and opens the music app again, the last listened song on display.

 

“You know this?”

“Have been playing it on repeat for past few days,” Oikawa admits.

 

Iwaizumi nods and presses the play button. He leans back against the wall, smooth skin of his neck exposed, eyes closing. Oikawa wants to talk, to ask him more questions, but he stays quiet as he watches his friend breathing steadily until his own eyelids are too heavy as well.

 

He listens to the song and thinks about how _stupid_ he is. He fails to notice Iwaizumi is extraordinarily handsome until a month of their friendship. He should give Iwaizumi more credit.

 

It’s not the ‘handsome’ Oikawa is used to from all the commercials - fair skinned guys with perfectly styled hair and long lean limbs. He’s never liked that beauty standard much and it’s funny, really, because he himself is a perfect example of it with his height and visible veins of his arms. Iwaizumi has something much better than the overplayed media pretty look; dark eyes and hair, tan skin and sharp jaw.

 

He’s woken up by his mother telling him she’s ready to head home. When he asks about Iwaizumi, she frowns and doesn’t say anything.

 

 

**

 

The sun is slowly setting, but the puddles of rainwater are enough proof that the weather hasn’t been this nice for long. Although it’s a beginning of December, it hasn’t snowed yet. It only rains this year. Oikawa doesn’t feel very festive, but he had to do the Christmas shopping sooner or later. Christmas is about being with family, friends, but he would rather stay in his bed and sleep through it all. Apparently that is _not_ _acceptable_ , his mother’s words. _Nonsense_ , Oikawa shakes head at the thought, his glasses slipping down his nose, but his hands are too busy with the two cups of coffee, so he only tilts his head back. It doesn’t really help.

 

Iwaizumi comes back with yet another plastic bag – he already has three - and doubtfully reaches out one tan finger, pushing Oikawa’s glasses up his nose. He adds this moment to his list of accomplishments.

 

Oikawa grins at him and hands him one of the cups. “Thanks.”

“How much was it?” Iwaizumi asks and sips the coffee.

“My treat,” Oikawa shakes head and watches how the corners of Iwaizumi’s mouth turn up into the smallest grin.

 

“I don’t know what to get my mom,” Iwaizumi murmurs as they make their way through the crowd, ready to head to normal shops now.

 

“Me and my mom have it kinda difficult, kinda easy. I always know what she will give me and she always knows what I will give her,” Oikawa says as they pass a couple holding hands and he has to squeeze his side closer to Iwaizumi in order not to bump into them.

 

“You tell each other?” Iwaizumi sounds genuinely interested, which pleases Oikawa. When they first hung out, he didn’t ever dare to think he and Iwaizumi would get on so well.

 

“No. It’s just.. Mind games, you know.”

 

Iwaizumi nods and stares somewhere ahead of them. Oikawa realises that talking about his mother isn’t exactly the best topic – so he changes it and Iwaizumi catches up easily.

 

 

**

 

Oikawa is typing total nonsense for his essay in the kitchen when his mother takes the seat in front of him, like she’s always done ever since he was little and he came home with bloody knees. He huffs at the memory and pulls the headphones out of his ears, placing them neatly next to his phone – they will still somehow tangle themselves, these assholes.

 

“What did you want to talk about?” he asks, his palms sweaty on the laptop.

“About the boy you keep hanging out with.”

“Iwa-chan,” he says, realising a second too late he’s used the nickname in front of her. He curses himself and mentally slaps himself just to be sure.

“Yes. I don’t want you to be around him,” she replies and stands up, walking away like nothing happened.

 

Oikawa’s blood boils in his veins when he realises this is the _second_ time someone doubts Iwaizumi in front of him. He shuts the laptop closed a little harsher than needed and kicks the leg of the chair that his mother sat on. He guesses this has something - _everything_ – to do with Iwaizumi’s aggression problem.

 

Oikawa absolutely _refuses_ to change his judgement about Iwaizumi because of that, especially after getting to know Iwaizumi better past last few days. Iwaizumi isn’t perfect, in fact, he _is_ kind of problematic. _But-_

 

Iwaizumi has _obviously_ showed an effort to change his behaviour – that’s why he’s visiting Oikawa’s mother, isn’t it? And she, _better than anyone else_ , should know that needs a huge amount of braveness and self-awareness to be done. People don’t like admitting their flaws, never have, never will – it’s in their nature.

 

And if no one is going to stick their neck out by having faith in Iwaizumi, faith that he can overcome this, Oikawa _damn sure will._

 

 

**

 

They’re sitting in a small cafe close to Oikawa’s house when Oikawa decides _it’s time_. He and Iwaizumi will part soon, and then Oikawa will have to spend god knows how long with his family. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small, neatly wrapped package with a silver bow on the top. He slides it across the table and much to his pleasure, it doesn’t take long to catch Iwaizumi’s attention.

 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,“ Iwaizumi states, dumbfounded as he stares at the gift in front of him. He pulls the sleeves of his hoodie over his palms and gently places the box next to his cup of coffee. He looks so adorable Oikawa barely believes this is the same Iwaizumi.

 

“Nonsense, Iwa-chan! It’s Christmas!” he grins, clapping his hands. “Now open it!”

 

Iwaizumi sighs and bends down, his body no longer visible above the table. Oikawa frowns and follows his friend’s movement, looking at him curiously under the old, ugly wooden thing. But Iwaizumi likes this vintage looking cafe, so he doesn’t comment it. “What are you doing?”

 

“Getting your gift, idiot,” Iwaizumi says, hand buried in his backpack, but he gives Oikawa a smile worth millions.

“ _Oh_ ,” Oikawa breathes out, too stunned for a moment before he regains his composure and sits up properly again.

 

Iwaizumi meets him there, shyly handing Oikawa _something soft –_ tons of wrapping paper and tape. Oikawa doesn’t waste any time and rips it off. “Gloves?”

 

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi mumbles, “You always complain about how dry and cold your hands are and how much hand cream you have to use, but I’ve never seen you wearing gloves. I mean, you don’t have to wear them, but.. I just thought..”

 

“I love them!” Oikawa yelps and yanks his hands away before Iwaizumi can take the gloves from him. “It’s.. really thoughtful of you,” he says, staring at the pair of light grey gloves. They go well with his coat. “Thank you, Iwa-chan.”

                                                                       

Oikawa’s gift for Iwaizumi – a mug with tiny cute cactus, because they remind Oikawa of Iwaizumi’s hair – stays forgotten and Oikawa only finds out that Iwaizumi likes it when hours later, he receives a message that contains Iwaizumi’s selfie with the mug full of hot chocolate. Oikawa smiles at the picture and saves it into his folder with friends.

 

 

**

 

“You know,” Iwaizumi says, his eyes fixed at the screen in front of them, unaware of Oikawa watching him – or so he hopes, “When you texted me, and I quote, _I’m in need of help, please come as soon you can,_ end of the quote, I didn’t think it would be because you don’t know how to install your new game.”

 

“It’s not my fault!” Oikawa whines and falls down on the bed, forcing his eyes off Iwaizumi. Instead, he stares at the boring white ceiling, “My mom threw the instructions away!”

 

“Right. Well, it should be done in.. 35 minutes,” Iwaizumi announces and turns in the chair; Oikawa can hear it.

 

He lets his gaze find the black-haired man again and smiles at him. He is pretty sure it’s disgustingly sweet and gentle, but he can’t help it when it’s just two of them, the only source of light being the colourful fairy lights above Oikawa’s bed and the laptop screen, and Iwaizumi looks _so damn content_. Oikawa would like to think Iwaizumi enjoys his company as much as he enjoys Iwaizumi’s, but he doesn’t even dare to.

 

Right now, he only wants to kiss him. He really wants to sit up and press his lips against Iwaizumi’s while he’s still smiling and maybe Iwaizumi would relax; kiss him back and wrap those strong arms around Oikawa to hold him until he’s left breathless.

 

The thought doesn’t surprise him anymore. It did the first few times, sure. Iwaizumi is his friend – and he doesn’t get such thoughts about his other friends. It feels wrong to even _try_ to imagine it. It doesn’t with Iwaizumi, so he doesn’t fight it.

 

The feeling has grown slowly and steadily, so naturally he barely noticed it creeping into his heart. And then, last week, Oikawa woke up like any day before, except with the not exactly new knowledge that he is in love with Iwaizumi. It didn’t shock him, didn’t scare him - if anything, he is surprised that the realisation came so late, because Iwaizumi was all that made people fall in love.

 

That day, Oikawa just got up, brushed his teeth and headed to the university like nothing has changed.

 

Although things did change– little things that no one but Oikawa notices. The way Iwaizumi’s smile cheers him up better than any victory ever has. The fact that when he catches Iwaizumi by himself, sadness surrounding him, he wishes he could lock the two of them somewhere and never unlock the door again. The fact that when he himself feels down, all he wants is to be with Iwaizumi and listen to him talking about his dog (his name is Brute and Iwaizumi loves him more than anything on this planet).

 

But Oikawa is Iwaizumi’s friend in the first place, that’s the most important thing. The most he can give Iwaizumi is his friendship – strong and stable. Oikawa has known that ever since his gaze first fell on the boy trying not to cry in the silent waiting room. So, no - Oikawa doesn’t kiss him. And he doesn’t lock the two of them away and he doesn’t let Iwaizumi know he’s almost jealous of his dog. Because that’s just _ridiculous._

When he thinks about, he will need a hammer to destroy the wall Iwaizumi sometimes tries to build between them, but he’s willing to do it. He chuckles at the thought and covers his mouth before he’s full on laughing, leaving Iwaizumi to stare at him in confusion.

 

“What’s so funny?” Iwaizumi asks, a wrinkle forming on his forehead as he frowns.

“Nothing,” Oikawa replies. “Just thinking.”

 

 

**

 

“So you’ve never done it?”

“No. Have you?”

“No,” Iwaizumi says, shuffling his feet on the floor of his bedroom. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

 “But everyone is doing it!” Oikawa pouts and crosses his arms over his chest.

“We don’t have to just because everyone else does.”

“ _Iwa-chan!”_ Oikawa cries out.

“How old are you again?” Iwaizumi asks; his tone clearly unimpressed.

 

“Old enough to do this!” Oikawa huffs and snatches the box from Iwaizumi. He stares at it for a second, his fingers shaking before he tightens his grip. He’s an _adult_ – he shouldn’t be this nervous.

 

“I have such a bad influence on you,” Iwaizumi chuckles at his crisis.

Oikawa groans and pokes his chest. “You just said you haven’t tried it either.”

“I haven’t. Together, right?”

 

Oikawa nods. Iwaizumi lights up two cigarettes and hands one to Oikawa, who doubtfully accepts. Seconds later, they’re both coughing furiously, both on the edge of crying and Iwaizumi quickly extinguish the cigarettes, throwing them into a bin.

 

Oikawa watches him, eyes glued on his face, and he’s never thought he would be this happy to try smoking – he hates it, everything about it, but Iwaizumi starts laughing, although he’s still recovering from the terrible experience, and it’s the best thing of the whole week.

 

 

**

 

“This is the worst party,” Oikawa complains, his hand clutching Iwaizumi’s arm although they’re sitting on the floor in the bathroom – they’ve already got separated twice and he does not plan on going through it again.

 

“What’s so bad about it?” Iwaizumi asks, genuinely surprised.

“I don’t like the songs, for example.”

“You liked the one playing before this.”

“The people here are acting like assholes.”

“The girl who fell on you apologized.”

“All the people dancing are couples.”

Iwaizumi laughs. “Do you want to dance?”

 

“ _Maybe_ ,” Oikawa sighs, tracing his finger up and down Iwaizumi’s biceps. The dark wine t-shirt is such a nice colour combined with his skin tone.

 

“I bet you look _terrible_ on the dance floor anyway,” Iwaizumi says, slapping Oikawa’s hand away when he tickles him.

 “Excuse you! I look better than any of your ex boyfriends!” Oikawa calls and he’s dragging Iwaizumi to the living room – dance floor – before he can regret his words.

 

They’re probably the only people on the house party who haven’t drunk anything; judging by the moves of the people around them. Still, Iwaizumi looks like he’s actually having a good time and Oikawa couldn’t ask for more. The next song that comes on is one they both know, so they end up singing – shouting - to it as they jump around more than dance.

 

The song changes and Iwaizumi is singing now, _really_ _singing_ , leaning to Oikawa and Oikawa is too stunned to do anything other than take it all in while he can. He listens to Iwaizumi’s already hoarse voice and watches him move without a single worry in the world. It might not be the _worst_ party, Oikawa thinks, the corners of his lips turning up when Iwaizumi nudges him to join him. And then he stops thinking, probably for the first time in ages; he doesn’t think about doing his best, doesn’t think about his mother and doesn’t think about the way his heart speeds up when Iwaizumi is this close. He can think tomorrow.

 

Before the clock can tick away midnight, they disappear to the balcony, away from the loud crowd, and watch the empty street below them. They can hear the people counting down the seconds and Oikawa plans on saying something clever, smartass probably, but the second there are screams of ‘Happy New Year!' and he turns to Iwaizumi, the black-haired man is already gazing at him with that little smile of his and Oikawa forgets his entire mother language.

 

 

**

 

It’s past 1 am when Oikawa’s phone rings, too loudly by his head. He groans and answers the call without checking the display; ready to shout at anyone who is calling him. He changes his mind when hears the familiar voice.

 

He is _outside_ in matter of seconds – and it looks like it, with his jeans over his pajama pants and open coat showing his embarrassingly old t-shirt with a washed out picture of an alien. Iwaizumi stands there, alone under the street lamp and even from the distance that is between him and the front door of Oikawa’s house, Oikawa can tell something _is_ wrong. Only when he rushes closer he sees the state Iwaizumi is in; one he hoped not to see again.

 

He searches for the right words, but they never come. He is left speechless, perhaps by being woken up so suddenly, perhaps by the bruise blooming on Iwaizumi’s pretty face. He wants to caress it, tell Iwaizumi that it will heal like the last one, but he can’t bring himself to.

 

Luckily, he doesn’t have to – Iwaizumi takes the matter in his own hands and for the first time, he himself looks for the comfort in Oikawa’s proximity, in his embrace. It takes a moment until Oikawa’s brain unfreezes and registers what’s going on. By then Iwaizumi is already pulling away with an apology on his tongue, so Oikawa does the only logical thing he can think of – he leaps at Iwaizumi and wraps his arms around his neck, pressing his stiff body back against his own. His chest aches as Iwaizumi clings to him again; quietly crying for help and Oikawa knows that the only person who can save Iwaizumi is Iwaizumi himself.

 

 

**

 

The sun is long set and the moon is up when Oikawa finds himself asking: “Is this even legal?”

“Probably not.”

 

He laughs and swings his legs in the air, fascinated by the city underneath his feet, by all the tiny lights and sounds that seem to be miles away. The night still is a bit cold, but it’s slowly getting there, warming up. Just like Iwaizumi, he supposes. Slowly, but steadily. “That makes it more exciting, I guess.”

 

“Exactly,” Iwaizumi hums beside him, lying down and gazing up at the stars. “It’s the adrenaline of the chance of being caught that makes it better. Also,” he sits up and pokes Oikawa’s chest, ”Name a better place to watch the night sky than a roof.”

 

“Great point,” Oikawa returns the gesture, before he notices the way Iwaizumi’s eyes linger on him. “What?”

 

“You have something on your face.”

“What?!”

Iwaizumi reaches out and when Oikawa expects him to wipe something nasty from his skin, Iwaizumi flicks his forehead instead. “Oh, never mind, you’re always this ugly.”

“You’re awfully _rude_ lately,” Oikawa groans and slaps his friend’s shoulder, “But I take is as a good sign.”

“Why?” Iwaizumi chuckles.

“Because when you are like this around people, it means they’re close to you.”

 

Iwaizumi’s grin disappears from his face then and Oikawa is worried he’s overstepped the barriers, but then he can’t talk because Iwaizumi’s lips are on his, soft and smooth. It’s better than all the imaginary kisses they exchanged in Oikawa’s head - both of them are equally involved and _Iwaizumi_ has started it. It’s not Oikawa’s first kiss, but he almost wishes it was.

 

When Iwaizumi pulls away, his lips curl up at the corners and under the starry sky, he looks as breathtaking as ever.

 

**

 

“Toru.”

 

Oikawa hisses and turns around, his eyes taking a while to adjust to the darkness. He hisses again, louder, when his mother turns the light in the hall on, waiting for him in her pyjamas and messy hair. _It’s been a while since she’s done this_ , he thinks bitterly. It’s been a while since she cared about him.

 

“Where have you been?”

“Outside. I’m going to bed now,” he bows and hopes for the best as he starts to make his way towards his bedroom. He is stopped by another call of his name, sharper this time.

“ _Toru_.”

“Yes?” he asks, all innocence, though he doesn’t move to face his mother – she would be able to read him in a second.

“You were with him again?”

“Yes.”

“ _Why_?”

 

Because it’s Iwaizumi. Because he’s fun. Because Oikawa adores him.

 

“He’s my friend. He would never hurt me and he is really nice,” he says through gritted teeth, all his efforts put into keeping his tone polite.

 

He hears his mother sigh behind him, and it doesn’t matter he’s an adult now; he’s still expecting the worst like he did when he was a child.

 

“ _Sometimes people are so touch starved they accept the first hands reaching out to them, no matter how dirty and rough,”_ is all she says before he returns to her own bedroom and leaves Oikawa standing in the hall with bitter taste on his tongue and an urge to punch the wall he’s using as a support.

 

He isn’t the one who’s touch starved, he tells himself.

 

 

**

 

“What about after you finish uni?” Oikawa asks, lying on his back on Iwaizumi’s bed, his head hanging down. It’s not uncomfortable yet. Brute, Iwaizumi’s dog, sits by his feet, too pleased with being allowed to be on the bed.

 

Iwaizumi shrugs from the floor, his legs crossed. “I would like to travel,” he admits after a while, with a sheepish smile on his lips. Oikawa wants to kiss that smile, but he doesn’t allow himself to do so.

 

It is spring when Oikawa questions himself, questions if he’s right for Iwaizumi. It’s after yet another _discussion_ with his mother. More cleverly aimed words, words that would make no sense to anyone else, but Oikawa has always been good at reading them.  He is sick to think his mother – a person who is supposed to _help_ others – is capable of being this cruel. And then again, maybe she’s always been like that, and Oikawa was just too worried about himself to notice. He wouldn’t be that surprised if it was truth; it’s always been only him, after all.

 

And then Iwaizumi came into his life – barged in, really. Now Oikawa wonders, as he watches the said man sit on the floor across him, if he’s really spoken to him only because he was bored with life, bored with analyzing people that he wouldn’t see again, just like his mother said.

 

“That sounds nice. Where?”

“Anywhere, everywhere.”

 

Oikawa chuckles and reaches his hand out. Iwaizumi meets him halfway, letting their fingers intertwine in the air as he shifts closer and lets his forehead rest against Oikawa’s.

 

It is spring. Cherry blossoms make the world seem pink – literally – but Oikawa doesn’t really like them. He used to, when he was younger, but later he’s come to the realisation that they’re pointless beauty.  He also doesn’t understand why they’re associated with love; what use is it that they’re beautiful when they only last so little?

 

Love should be more than a beauty. Love should be deep bonds and endless trust, not something that falters under the slightest wind of pressure.

 

It’s not as his mother said and it never has been.

 

Oikawa loves Iwaizumi. Loves him so much his chest hurts, sometimes, when Iwaizumi closes up after a bad day and he won’t tell Oikawa what’s wrong. Loves him so much that he defends him in front of his mother, even though he’s never stood up against her before – there have never been anything as important as Iwaizumi.

 

“You look even worse upside down,” Iwaizumi whispers.

“Thank you very much, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa rolls his eyes before he closes them as Iwaizumi’s fingers stroke his cheek. “So you don’t wanna settle down?”

 

“I don’t know. I don’t necessarily need a permanent home.”

“So living in hotels,” Oikawa hums.

“Yeah. And you should come with me.”

“I should?” Oikawa asks, too scared he’s heard wrong. He hopes Iwaizumi doesn’t notice how shaky his voice is.

“Yeah. We can visit all the cool places.”

“Yeah.”

 

Iwaizumi pulls away and Oikawa misses the touch immediately. He sits up on the bed and turns to face the dark-haired man to find him with a strange expression; one that Oikawa doesn’t remember ever seeing on him.

 

“Are you crying?” Iwaizumi speaks up, almost whispering.

“Of course not!” Oikawa yelps and grabs Iwaizumi’s pillow, throwing it at him and while Iwaizumi is busy picking it up from the floor, he hastily wipes his wet eyes.

 

They’re not exactly there yet, _no_ \- but it’s a long way, Oikawa knows. He believes in Iwaizumi; more than he’s ever believed in himself, probably. He puts all his faith in this boy who got into fights but was scared of gentle touches, because they can hurt more than any of the punches. Perhaps he still is.

 

Oikawa is looking at him now, watching him smile seconds after he’s invited Oikawa into his future. Oikawa doesn’t need anything more now, so he doesn’t tell Iwaizumi he loves him, no matter how much he would like to. It’s not the right time yet. And, truth to be told, he won’t say these words out loud until Iwaizumi is ready to hear them and believe them as much as Oikawa does. Whenever it will be tomorrow, in a month, in a year. Oikawa is willing to wait as long as it takes if it means that Iwaizumi will be able to have a faith in himself as well.

 

“ _Fight me_ , Iwa-chan!” he yells and jumps on the dark-haired man, who only laughs and tickles him.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I just want to say that this story is super important to me and I rewrote this (no joke) 8 times, so I'm just posting it before I can rewrite it again and go insane, most likely.
> 
>  Come talk to me on [tumblr](http://carxies.tumblr.com/) or [instagram ](https://www.instagram.com/carxies/)


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